


Where Do You Feel?

by direhund



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Frottage, Light Angst, M/M, PWP, and feelings, puppyshipping - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 15:51:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8108347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/direhund/pseuds/direhund
Summary: Kaiba doesn't like to outright discuss his emotions, but a little talking never hurt. And dick-touching. Dick-touching is generally pretty great.





	

**Author's Note:**

> when normally you hate-fuck so you gotta take baby steps into the vanilla shit

_Jealousy_

 

Jounouchi touches his sternum, tracing down the center in an easy line. From the line branches icy coldness, crawling between his ribs to clutch fiercely at his lungs. It squeezes the breath out of him in a staggered sigh, and Jounouchi stops. Fixes him with dark brown eyes. Waits. They are both familiar with this routine.

“What’s it like,” Kaiba begins, eyes breaking upwards from his even stare, “For the people who brought you into this world to actually care for and be there for you?”

“I wouldn’t know.”  


 

_Bitterness_

 

With his answer, Jounouchi continues to touch. His fingers slide left, and his brown eyes rove downwards. He seems taken by the ridge of his ribs. His hand comes back up, this time with his palm flat against his skin. It’s warm. He leaves it there, and feels him breathe. Feels each steady inhalation and every slower exhalation. Feels the ants along his ribs, marching, marching, marching; unending.

“You know, I never liked the parents I saw. They lorded over their children; acted so fond and… Parental,” Kaiba says, interrupting the rhythm of breath. His words are sharp. “They, especially, looked at us like we were pitiful.” _And we were,_ goes unspoken. Jounouchi nods sagely, and his brown eyes close in a thoughtful expression.

 

_Anger_

 

He keeps touching. His hand continues its downward trail, this time straight. Kaiba twitches, and his eyes finally climb down from the ceiling to meet brown ones again. Something uncoils beneath Jounouchi’s hand -- beneath Kaiba’s skin -- quick and violent like a snake lashing out. The walls of his stomach burn. He can hear the rattle-tail in the back of his mind. He grits his teeth 

“We deserved better than an old man with no time for anything he couldn’t use,” he says vehemently, and then adds with equal vitriol, “ _My brother_ deserved better.”

Jounouchi’s nails dig into his skin and he blinks away the sudden rush of emotion. He pays attention when Jounouchi’s mouth parts to murmur an assuaging, “I know.”

 

_Guilt_

 

Again, his hand moves, careful, drifting lazily over his hot skin and to the dip of his navel. Kaiba’s breath hitches and he shifts. His guts are writhing. Something is twisting; it’s curling and knotting in on itself, and hot discomfort worms its way out of the core of the mass. It makes a leisurely course up his spine and sends itching sparks along his arms. He raises his own hand and places it over the Jounouchi’s, halting its trek across his abdomen.

“I did it to us. I walked us thoughtlessly into the life of the first opportunity I saw, and I put us through every other bullshit thing that happened afterward. Selfishly,” he says the last word with a snide air. Brown eyes open to watch him curiously, but he’s looking at the ceiling again.

“Not that I ever regret doing anything for myself, or ever will. It’s my right to be selfish, isn’t it? I just could have done more for him all the same. I _should_ have, and he has to realize it. He’s not _stupid_. Do you think he holds that against me?”

“If you weren’t -- What? Ten? -- at the time, I would,” Jounouchi answers casually. Kaiba curls his lip, rolls his eyes, but squeezes Jounouchi’s hand where it rests on his belly for a stolen second before he lets go.

“Shut up.”

 

_Pride_

 

Now free, his hand shuffles across the sharp line of Kaiba’s hip and tangles its fingers with those of the hand that had been resting listlessly between them. He raises it up and kisses Kaiba’s pale knuckles, featherlight. This time when he meets his easy brown eyes, he turns his head to do so, blinking slowly. His mouth his a tight line, and he squeezes that invasive hand with a firm, gentle grip. The knot in his guts slowly unfurls; smooths out. The heat seeps out of his shoulder blades as a cold shield glides up from his fingertips and spreads like wings across his shoulders.

“I shouldn’t keep expecting _you_ to understand these sorts of things anyway,” he says dismissively. It lacks venom, so he receives no vicious retorts for his thinly veiled insult. How tame.

“What, that you have feelings?” Jounouchi asks instead, sounding amused. His breath is warm against his wrist, where he’d trailed his kisses. Very tame indeed.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Kaiba snorts in answer, turning his blue eyes back to the ceiling.   


 

_Sadness_

 

Jounouchi disentangles their fingers and runs the backs of his knuckles up his arm, over his shoulder, across his collar. Then his fingers uncurl and they brush against his throat. Kaiba swallows. Hard. The ceiling stares back at him, empty and unforgiving. He swallows again. His fingers curl against the sheets, digging in like to rip right through them. He doesn’t have claws, though, and the sheets don’t rip. So he lets go and forces out a harsh sigh. He’s frowning, thinking. Jounouchi’s eyes have become expectant again, waiting and alight with gentle patience he would have thought was far beyond the ability of their owner. He can take as long as he needs.

Still, he can’t find it in himself to answer them. He takes in a sharp breath and turns his head away from them. The silence stretches until they blink. His fingers smooth against his throat again, following the pulse of yet another lump going down.

“You’re allowed to have them, you know. And talk about ‘em. I’ll listen,” he says without prompt. Kaiba still doesn’t speak, doesn’t look his way again, but it’s okay. Despite what he’d said, Jounouchi does understand. More often than not.

 

_Trust_

 

His fingers slip down and he rests his hand over the gentle beat of Kaiba’s heart. After a moment, he begins to tap them lightly in time with it. Slowly, the rhythm thrumming into his skin lulls away the ache in his throat. With every beat, warmth chases it back and spreads to the very tips of his limbs. So he turns his head again, looks into Jounouchi’s face, meets brown eyes with an attempt at indifference. He’s been smiling all this while. A small one, softly appropriate for such serious moments as these. Now, though, he is grinning, and it’s the crooked one like he’s up to something, except Kaiba has learned to find it charming instead. He doesn’t smile back, but his expression softens.

“I know,” he says by way of a delayed response.

 

_Love_

 

Jounouchi stops touching. This is a break in their routine. Blue eyes blink and follow him as he pushes himself up. He is liquid and he climbs over him, boxing him in against the sheets and straddling his thighs. He leans down and he catches Kaiba’s mouth, but there is a lack of harshness. There is no fire and whispered curses, no teeth and sharp-tasting blood between their lips. He is warm and he is careful, and Kaiba surges upward with unanticipated eagerness to return this careful affection. He reaches up, cups his hands around his jawlines, tangles his fingers in his shaggy blond hair.

He’s full, overflowing; there is something _in him_ that he cannot name, and it swells in his chest, and sings in his mouth, and breathes life into the empty space left in him. He cannot touch Jounouchi enough; _his hands cannot be in enough places at once_ , so he clings. He clings, and he kisses, and he closes his eyes tight so he can focus on just this.

They press against each other urgently, not to surpass one another for once, but for the sake of closeness. Jounouchi breaks their kiss to plant more down Kaiba’s neck, paving affection down his pulse point. Kaiba hums and shuffles under him, content to let him have his way. His hips begin a halting rhythm against Jounouchi’s, and he runs his fingers out of his hair and down to his shoulders. He’s still clinging, but his nails don’t dig in; he doesn’t claw at his skin this time. Jounouchi shifts with him, smoothing their tandem rocking to steadiness and leaving his weight to one hand so he can wrap the other around their stiffening members.

Both of them shiver, and Jounouchi makes a delighted noise that’s muffled by the flesh of Kaiba’s throat. He’s slow at first, and his hold is light until his hand spreads their slick pre down the lengths of their cocks. Then he picks up the pace.  Kaiba shifts up on his elbows, the movement jerky and labored. Jounouchi’s name slips unbidden from his mouth once, then again, wrapped in curses because they’re the only words in Kaiba’s expansive vocabulary he can bring to mind suddenly. Jounouchi squeezes them and rocks his hips, pushing up from the crook of Kaiba’s neck to breathe properly a minute. If panting could be called proper, at least. His eyes are closed; he’s concentrating, teeth sunk in his lip because he has this _thing_ about being vocal.

Normally Kaiba would take the opportunity to tease him, to mock him and coax that mouth open because it’s _delightfully_ filthy, but he doesn’t. He’s too busy breathing himself, and it’s almost funny. There’s nothing especially mind-blowing about frotting, but he feels so breathlessly beyond himself it’s like there’s not enough room for the air he’s dragging into his lungs. Each exhale carries an expletive or an indecipherable moan, and he can’t even be irked that he’s the only one making noise.

Jounouchi’s hips jerk, throwing off their rhythm entirely.  His hand jerks with less gentility than impatience, and he finally cracks on his own, first in a sharp little “Ah!” and then in whispered, high-pitched curses that beat his brain to his lips. Kaiba’s head tips back and he arches under him as his own cum strikes hot against his stomach. Jounouchi squirms and the fingers of his other hand clench the sheets by Kaiba’s arm hard. He pumps them through their orgasms for all they’re worth, and Kaiba can’t care that a slick mix of both their cum is sliding down his sides when Jounouchi keeps doing this to him until he’s twitching and squirming with oversensitivity.

By the time he gasps out a strangled plea for him to stop, he finds himself exhausted. Far more spent than he should feel when all Jounouchi had done was jerk them off, so for a little while he just breathes. While Jounouchi shuffles to his side again and makes a little spoon of himself, he breathes and he feels. Feels the air slowly find its place in him again. Feels Jounouchi tangling their legs together because he is nothing if not clingy after any kind of sex.

He curls against Kaiba’s side, apparently ready to sleep. Grudgingly, Kaiba drags the blankets up and over them and rolls to face him. Normally he wouldn’t dream of falling asleep without cleaning himself off, but at the rate he was going, Jounouchi was going to suffer the discomfort of dried cum in the morning, too. So he indulged the boneless content seeping into his limbs and let Jounouchi cling undisturbed as much for his own benefit as the other’s.

**Author's Note:**

> listen i don't care if kaiba's anime backstory is technically not canon bc it didn't happen in the manga clearly that didn't stop me from writing this so it's sure as hell not gonna stop me from posting it i am looking at a single person in particular when i say this Kaiden
> 
> anyway this was fun to write and i'm actually kind of proud of it, so i hope it was a good read for you!


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